Nora Heysen: A Portrait

Summary

Hahndorf artist Nora Heysen was the first woman to win the ArchibaldPrize, and Australia's first female painter to be appointed as an officialwar artist. A portraitist and a flower painter, Nora Heysen's life wasdefined by an all-consuming drive to draw and paint. In 1989, aged 78,Nora re-emerged on the Australian art scene when the nation's majorart institutions restored her position after years of artistic obscurity.Extensively researched, and containing artworks and photographs from thepainter's life, Nora Heysen: a portrait is the first biography of the artist, andit has been enthusiastically embraced by the Heysen family. This authorisedbiography coincides with a major retrospective of the works of Nora andher father, landscape painter Hans Heysen, to be held at the NationalGallery of Victoria in March 2019.

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Nora Heysen - Anne-Louise Willoughby

ONE: IN THE NAME OF THE FATHER

Give me Art that comes from the world that surrounds us, the beauty of which we can see and absorb—a clean beauty that makes us the happier for our experience. – Hans Heysen¹

She captured a sense of the way these women saw themselves and their place in a unique time. Nora said she wasn’t a feminist but she identified with women working in a man’s world. – Eugene Schlusser²

Nora Heysen was well suited to depicting authoritative women. After all, she was one. Her portraits of the heads of the women’s services painted in her capacity as official war artist represent their strength along with her own in the determined brushstrokes she applied to canvas. She was strong in character, sharp in wit and determined to live her life on her own terms. From an early age, she had capable female role models: she, her mother and older sisters all had a part to play in a seemingly idyllic yet hard-working, self-sufficient pastoral life. Her father recognised Nora’s talent as a child and encouraged her to draw alongside him in his studio at The Cedars, the ‘gentleman’s country residence’³ which became the home of the Heysen family. With thoughtful and disciplined practice, along with practical, if in some ways equivocal, support and encouragement from both her mother and father, Nora became a painter. However, her background was a gift imbued with family contradictions and complexities that were not always constructive.

In November 2000, just over three years before her death on 30 December 2003, a full-scale retrospective of Nora’s work was mounted at the National Library of Australia (NLA). In a glossy four-page feature article in The Australian Financial Review Magazine, illustrated with large colour photographs including a dramatic portrait shot, the ‘art men’ around Nora Heysen discussed her position in Australian painting. The journalist David Meagher wrote:

At 89, Heysen’s life has spanned an unparalleled sweep of Australian and international art history. Through her father, she is a living link to the masters of Australian painting; through her friendships—including with Orovida Pissarro, granddaughter of Camille Pissarro—she is separated by considerably less than six degrees from the great post-Impressionists from Cézanne to Van Gogh.

No matter where or in what context Nora Heysen is considered, her father is never far from the discussion. As one of Australia’s best-known landscape painters, his work became part of our national imagery from Federation through to the 1960s. In the opening paragraph to his article, Meagher refers to her seventy-year career and her refusal to submit to pressure to change her style or subject matter. He tells us that Nora was ‘determined in the face of fashion and even the odd court martial (a reference to her refusing an order during her OWA Commission) to, as she puts it, Stay on my own bus’.⁴ It might be said that she was not always the driver of the bus, with her father and his friends each trying to take a turn to direct the young woman artist. The men interviewed by Meagher in the lead-up to the 2000 retrospective discuss this marginalisation and its possible causes, including her reluctance to self-promote and the central question of what it means for children to live in the shadow of a famous parent.

In 1989, Lou Klepac, the Australian curator and publisher, revived interest in Nora’s work after years of what he calls ‘considerable neglect’⁵ by the Australian art community. Klepac met with Nora to discuss an exhibition of her father’s work in the mid 1980s and later he looked at her paintings. When he expressed surprise that she had never had a solo exhibition in the sixty years that she had lived in Sydney she responded, ‘No-one ever asked. And I don’t push myself’.⁶ The two became close friends. Klepac was a trusted advisor, advocate and manager of her work. In 1989 he published the monograph Nora Heysen and curated an exhibition of her work at S.H. Ervin Gallery in Sydney. When Klepac was curating her 2000 retrospective, then director of the National Portrait Gallery (NPG) in Canberra, the late Andrew Sayers, was quoted by Meagher:

There is something unresolved in her work—that is the relationship of her work to her father’s … I hope that Klepac will bring to the exhibition the rigour that is necessary to really understand her.

Meagher also interviewed John McDonald, former head of Australian Art at the National Gallery of Australia (NGA), and he added:

It could be said that she is more important than we previously thought … From the 1950s and the 1960s onwards the artists that impressed their reputation on people are the ones that made use of their social contacts … she was not a pushy person … Nora suffered the same problem that other children of famous painters have … It’s very hard to step out of the shadow of a famous father.⁷

While researching her thesis in the mid 1990s on the subject of Nora’s wartime work, Kate Nockels records that Nora revealed a long-held anxiety attached to always comparing herself with her father:

It wasn’t that she was only successful because she was his daughter and that his influence worked in her favour, it was that she was always comparing herself … ‘in his shadow’ was the phrase she would use and she was always trying to match him … but she went on a different path and you couldn’t really compare her still lifes with his landscapes.⁸

Nora’s uncertainty was finally addressed after Klepac revealed her work once more at her 1989 Sydney exhibition. In 1993 she received the Australia Council’s Award for Achievement in the Arts, a Life Award designed to honour the life and work of eminent but under-recognised visual and craft artists. Klepac had arranged for her to be seen in her own terms and she responded: ‘Well, I have produced enough work in my own way … and I would be recognized as a painter separate from my father, I think that’s true. I believe it is’.⁹

Nora finally expressed acceptance of her artistic independence. She was eighty-three. Yet eight years later, the ‘father–daughter’ conversation was still open on the eve of her NLA retrospective. What in her work is ‘unresolved’¹⁰ in Andrew Sayers’ terms? Sixteen years after Sayers’ observation, I put this question to the current director of the NPG, Angus Trumble, and his response was refreshing:

If it is true that Nora Heysen dwells in the shadow of her father then it’s also true that an artist as great as, and underappreciated as, Orazio Gentileschi lives in the eternal shadow of his daughter Artemisia. So it can actually flow both ways, I think, particularly now when we are inclined to amp up every effort to magnify achievements of women artists for all the right reasons … My inclination is to take a slightly different position to Andrew [Sayers] and say that Nora Heysen in this evolution of her posthumous reputation is easily able to take care of herself in respect of Hans.

Angus Trumble believes that Nora Heysen now occupies her proper place within the realm of Australian painters, seeing her as ‘neither sidelined or over-emphasised’. He refers to the self portraits by Nora Heysen, Stella Bowen and Grace Cossington Smith that hang together in the NPG: ‘The point that we make in that part of the display is a general one that it so happens that in various media, not just painting, modernism belatedly finds it way in Australian art, thanks to the efforts of women artists and those three are notables’. Trumble adds that there are other women who have contributed in this way and believes that the NPG has addressed what was a deficit. His final comment to me on Nora is telling:

It is interesting that she didn’t sign her name Nora Black. She had the perfect opportunity to distance herself from the Heysen name when she married Robert Black but she chose not to. It would hardly be surprising if the matter vexed her that she felt both a need to acknowledge her father and his reputation and align herself with that but also be a little bothered about whether that was fair to herself. So it is a tension in her self-projection.¹¹

Even so, a change of name would not have been easy. Nora did not marry until she was in her forties. By then her professional name had been established for over twenty years in the eyes of the buying public. She was a woman attempting to produce work in a male-dominated profession, caught between using the name of either of the two men central to her life. Though she used her married name socially, she always signed her work Heysen. The fact that her father was a member of her chosen profession was a complicating factor.

While his daughter managed the role her heritage played in her life, Hans Heysen’s own background and his success were a consequence of great tenacity and vision. His past offers us insight into the aspects of his life that had such a profound effect on him and subsequently the daughter that would follow him. Wilhelm Ernst Hans Franz Heysen was born in 1877 in Hamburg, Germany, the sixth of seven children of Louis and Elize Heysen. Two older brothers, Gustav and Louis, died in infancy. His elder sister and two brothers and the youngest Heysen child, Valeska, survived. His parents were relatively secure and comfortable in the early years of their marriage. Louis was the son of a man wealthy enough to provide an education and, as Hans Heysen’s biographer Colin Thiele suggests, wealthy enough to live ‘a life of some distinction’. Thiele recorded Heysen’s memories during a period when the writer was invited to live at The Cedars. Heysen was ninety and his recollections reveal that his father Louis was a man with a propensity for rash decisions and unwillingness to compromise, which would jeopardise what could have been a distinguished way of life. With the support of his own father, Louis became a retailer of sewing machines that could not compete with modern foreign models. The business failed and in the early 1880s he established two drapery stores also in Hamburg, though both of these met the same end. Louis was ‘virtually bankrupt’¹² and Elize opened a small drapery on the first floor of their home to keep the creditors at bay. It was then that Louis decided that Australia could provide a fresh start.

Thiele suggests that Louis’s health, in particular problems with his lungs, provides the reason for his decision to immigrate to South Australia. Some also suggest his insolvency influenced his decision to leave his family and send for them a year later, once he was established. Emigration had its challenges. He could not make a success of the poor land that had been allotted to him through the land order system in South Australia, and by the time his family was to arrive in Port Adelaide, having left the comfort of their home and its gentle accoutrements, he was penniless. There was no home for them except a wooden hut with almost no furniture. On arriving at these lodgings, Elize’s doubts and fears about leaving her home were realised when she entered the virtual slum dwelling that her husband had barely managed for his family’s arrival. Before leaving Hamburg she almost wrote to say she was not immigrating to Australia, but her loyalty prevailed. Meanwhile, the former bookkeeper, one-time retailer, failed landholder, dismal accountant and unsuccessful speculative investor in Port Adelaide was now struggling to operate a fledgling pig and poultry run near Rosewater.¹³

German immigration to Australia was initially a result of religious persecution. South Australia and Queensland were the main destinations, and in 1838 Pastor Kavel settled his Lutheran followers in Klemzig, South Australia. In November that same year Captain Dirk Hahn arrived with another 187 Lutheran Germans fleeing a royal edict that would force their church to combine with Calvinists to create a state church.¹⁴ Prussian King Friedrich Wilhelm III and his landowners were concerned about the power and influence of the clergy. Disobeying the edict of the king resulted in systematic persecution.¹⁵ Hahndorf, named for the Danish sea captain that delivered these religious refugees, maintains its German heritage today through the preservation of original buildings and as a busy tourist centre that celebrates its traditions. It would become home to the family of Hans Heysen seventy-three years after the captain’s passengers walked alongside their wagons from the port to their future home in the Adelaide Hills.¹⁶

Louis Heysen’s decision to take his chances in the British colony appeared to be yet another error of judgement. But in time, in a desperate bid to provide for his family, he built up a business hawking fish twice a week from the port to Gawler, a settlement fifty kilometres inland. On the trip back to Adelaide, unsold fish were exchanged for eggs and butter that were promptly sold back in town. Finally Louis had a viable enterprise and he was able to purchase a horse and cart. His improved situation meant a series of different homes, each a better version than the last. It also meant school for the youngest children, Hans and Valeska. In 1889, six years after emigration, Louis Heysen finally bought a house. At the rear he set up his trading premises. For the first time since leaving Germany his family would experience a sense of security. He appeared in the Adelaide Directory as ‘Produce Merchant, North Norwood’. During the intervening years Hans had attended different schools depending on where the family had taken up residence. In 1890 Hans was enrolled in the East Adelaide Model School where he completed his final days of education, leaving in September 1892 at the age of fourteen.¹⁷

During these days Hans Heysen’s talent for drawing was emerging. There were no formal art classes but in time Hans Heysen’s appreciation of the natural world around him and his father’s side business of horse-trading produced the drawings that alerted his family to his artistic talent. Louis Heysen bought unbroken horses from station owners, prepared them as best he could and sold them at a profit, keeping those he required to haul his produce carts. As a fourteen year old, stories of the Wild West and ‘cowboys and Indians’ fed Hans Heysen’s imagination while his father’s horses provided live models for sketches of an imagined, and sensationalised, American West.¹⁸

Though his father enjoyed Hans’s drawings, even collecting some of his best to keep as samples, no-one, not even Hans, considered art as a means of making a living. At almost fifteen he started work in a sawmill and hardware business, Cowell Bros, on Norwood Parade. Spare time was not plentiful. Hans was using his to engage with his art: ‘People called it his hobby. The random sketching of his school days, taking on greater purpose, led him to charcoal and watercolour, and—in a moment of bold experimentation—to oils’. By the time he was sixteen Hans’s work was being admired outside of the family and, according to Thiele, it ‘had intruded itself sufficiently into the Heysen household to warrant some kind of official recognition’. He began art classes at the Norwood Art School run by James Ashton, the art master at Prince Alfred College in Adelaide. Ashton’s tuition validated his gift as an artist and his sense of himself.¹⁹ It also brought him into contact with other artists, something that would not otherwise have happened in his everyday work life. Later in his life Hans would experience a great sense of satisfaction when he asked building contractor Cowell Bros, his first employer, to build his first studio. Hans had left the hardware company aged seventeen, when he and his father were both unhappy as, following two years of reliable work, old Mr Cowell refused to raise his five shilling weekly wage by two and a half shillings. Now Cowell’s would do work for him.²⁰

Hans Heysen’s artistic success was the result of an unusual combination of intelligence, natural skill and application. The encouragement of his family also played a central role. However, his situation was propitious. Adelaide was at that time a small city, and a prodigious talent was likely to be visible. His support came from varied sources: from South Australia’s lieutenant governor to Pascoe the pawnbroker, to the philanthropic businessman, Robert Barr Smith, who paid Hans Heysen’s tuition fees at the South Australian School of Design. For a time, Heysen juggled his obligations to his father and the produce delivery round with his commitment to his art. Meanwhile his sister Valeska’s suitor Oscar Duhst, who was a barber, offered to promote his paintings by hanging them on his city shop walls, facing a regular and captive audience of interested men about town, ready to discuss the merits of the work. The Heysen name became known and sales immediately resulted. During the early period of his career from 1895 to 1899 his work was consistently exhibited and appreciated in Australia; a major surge of recognition came when Ashton submitted a selection of works by his students to the Royal Drawing Society of Great Britain and Ireland. Heysen won first prize with a watercolour landscape, selected as the outstanding work of the year from entries representing 124 art schools across the Empire, as well as winning other prizes in related sections. The works were held over by the organisers to be displayed at national exhibitions and the Paris Exhibition of 1900. He was an extraordinary draughtsman but his ability to represent light in the Australian landscape made his work unusual and exciting. After receiving steady recognition in his home town and abroad, in 1899 four South Australian patrons contributed to a fund that would allow him to study and paint in Europe for four years, facilitating the formal transition to a career as an artist, a somewhat unexpected development for him and his family.²¹

Hans Heysen’s personal life fostered his social and artistic standing. When he returned from Europe he opened the Heysen Art School, where he met Selma (Sallie) Bartels: daughter of a former mayor of Adelaide, who became his student, and then his wife. Both were passionate about art and both understood their social context and what the life of an artist dedicated to landscape painting might entail. They had a collaborative connection from the outset. Heysen told his biographer:

She was wonderful … She knew how to send out invitations, how to address people, what to do and what not to do. I didn’t know anything; I was a real ignoramus when it came to things like that. Heaven knows what I would have done without her.²²

Nora recalls her mother’s skills:

Mother was a good organiser and a great reader—very well read indeed and very good at conversation and entertaining. I don’t think father could have made a career like that without her. She was the intermediary between the public and the artist.²³

This marriage was the foundation of a great and socially strategic artistic and cultural progression for the family that facilitated Heysen’s own life’s work, and the lives of their children, Nora included. Central to this endeavour was the Heysen family home, The Cedars.

I first visited The Cedars when I was thirty-two with my husband, who was a Heysen family friend. At that point, in 1990, it was still a private home. Two years later as a contributing editor for Belle Magazine, I would return to write a story and direct a photographic shoot. It was as if the family had just left for a morning walk. The sun streamed in the windows, pale blue and violet hydrangeas were loaded into their vases, abundance and nonchalance paired. Each room was ready to receive visitors: bowls of quinces, roses from the garden—as the eye moved, it registered a tableau from every angle, a still life waiting to be put on canvas. The effect was all prescribed by a sense of a past era: the long-gone artist was guiding my eye as if he were on my shoulder directing me to look. Hans Heysen’s favoured Souvenir de la Malmaison, a rose in the softest of pinks, spread lusciously from a glass vase in the master bedroom. My job of directing the angles of the camera had already been done for me. However, the outwardly elegant arrangement of The Cedars, at all times, as with most cultural arrangements, rested on complex and often unspoken compromises: instances of grief and generosity.

TWO: THE CEDARS

The real core of Hans’s life as an artist lay in the moment, rather than the day—the first stroke of charcoal on paper, the stub of palette knife on canvas, the utter commitment of the artist as he watched a ray of light moving across a tree trunk. These were the moments of creation and revelation; the living frontier, so to speak, of his own spiritual life. – Colin Thiele¹

‘You’re a lucky beggar, Heysen,’ was echoed in a hundred letters. They envied him his life, his home, his wife; sensed the simple dignity of his environment; applauded the power of his craftsmanship. Lionel Lindsay had summed it up long before: ‘You hold, I take it, most of the cards of happiness’. Hans did. – Colin Thiele²

In 1912, after a highly successful watercolour exhibition in Melbourne, Hans and Sallie Heysen had the means to buy the home that Sallie had discovered, and desired, on a country walk.³ The Heysens were living in rental accommodation in Hahndorf after spending the early part of their marriage living with Sallie’s mother in Hurtle Square, Adelaide. The home they would buy was originally named Blackwood, but it was changed to the more bucolic The Cedars, possibly in the 1890s.⁴ This was a modest country home at the heart of thirty-six acres of natural bush land and pasture. It would be the heart of the Heysen family for the next century and beyond. The initial asking price for the property was inflated due to the owner’s reluctance to sell, but Hans Heysen’s Melbourne show of 1912 was such a success that he was able to make the purchase. His form of painting defined a particular, highly popular view of the Australian landscape, and up until the 1940s he shared his successes with contemporaries Gruner, Streeton, McCubbin, Roberts and Lambert as chroniclers of a newly federated Australia.

The Melbourne art world and its patrons had embraced the Heysens, and the implications for the family were immense. The sale of the house to Hans Heysen was completed and the family had its epicentre. He laid out the grounds himself, creating meandering stone paths, beds with borders of quartz and limestone and steps leading to different levels, with the house sheltered by the majestic Himalayan cedar trees that give it its name, planted in the 1870s when the house was built. The effect of Heysen’s landscaping close to the home resulted in a European garden rich with the traditions of roses and perennials with which to fill the house. While the flowering shrubs, and bulbs within the boundary fences of the house provided a picturesque surrounding, he remained enamoured with the native bush beyond. In 1938 a highly successful show at the David Jones Gallery in Sydney facilitated the purchase of adjacent land and allowed The Cedars to remain a bush enclave free from urban encroachment. The property surrounding Heysen’s studio provided the inspiration for his work that never altered either in subject matter or in approach, a fact that would later prove alienating for the artist as the world around him changed in terms of subject and technique. This same environment deeply influenced Nora, in terms of the physical world but also the philosophical aspects of her father’s approach to art. The home as a totality is photographed, but not painted by Hans or Nora. Rather, elements of the home that express the totality by implication are present in each artist’s oeuvre.

Hans Heysen is lauded for his immense Australian landscapes, demonstrating the distinctive light of the Antipodes. The paintings concerning his household at The Cedars offer the viewer a different kind of experience. Sewing (the artist’s wife) 1913, which is today held by the Hans Heysen Foundation Collection (HHFC) at The Cedars, is an oil on canvas that embodies on a domestic scale some of the elements that Hans Heysen worked to represent throughout his life. So much that was central to Hans Heysen’s life and his painting informs how we understand his artist daughter. Nora’s engagement with the domestic as subject matter is consistently revealed throughout her career, and an examination of her father’s treatment of this subject, and of the philosophy that he adopted, leads us to understanding the complexities faced by Nora as an emerging artist in a period of great change as she took her place in the art world in Australia and beyond.

In Sewing, Sallie is mother and carer, homemaker and nurturer. Heysen represents the grandeur of the natural world in his vast landscapes. Yet he turned to the domestic for inspiration in Sewing. He acknowledges his wife’s domestic labour, and reflects on the home the two have created for themselves and their family. Hans Heysen’s lifelong quest to represent sunlight, the shadows it creates, and the ambience it produces for the viewer, is delicately rendered with a spill of brilliance through the lace curtains of Sallie’s workroom window. The room was in a separate building that overlooked the main house and garden (later it would become Nora’s studio) and Sallie takes on an almost beatific role in the painting, where she seems to be a guardian of all that is good and familial. While intimate, and representative of the domestic role many women held at the time, it speaks to bigger ideas of life and family. The woman in the painting is absorbed, working, stitching in her husband’s trademark light. Her back is turned to the viewer. This is not a conventional portrait designed to express character through the subject’s face; rather it could be compared to the nineteenth-century German Romanticism technique of Rückenfigur where the subject’s back is presented offering a vicarious experience for the viewer, inviting the viewer into the scene. One of the greatest exponents of this technique of the period is Caspar David Friedrich who claimed that ‘The painter should paint not only what he has in front of him, but also what he sees inside himself’.⁵ The painting of Sallie Heysen exemplifies an internalised vision of domesticity. Later in 1919 Heysen wrote to his close friend Lionel Lindsay, one of the prolific and successful artistic Lindsay siblings. In Lindsay, Hans Heysen had a sympathetic and admiring contemporary though Klepac points out that Hans Heysen did not share Lindsay’s blind prejudice when it came to a mutual suspicion of modernism.⁶ The two shared many written exchanges on art and its role throughout their long lives:

I am only trying to paint as truthfully as I can, and that which my eyes see and perhaps what I unconsciously feel. Truth to Nature after all is the goal but Truth is interpreted through temperament. Of course Light interests me as much as ever, but I am seeking it more under the ‘everyday aspect’ of nature … It is surprising what beauty enveloping light gives to the ordinary things in nature and instead of them becoming more commonplace, they become more and more filled with charm—…⁷

Heysen is respectful of the labour that goes into building a life and, by extension, a nation, in his emphasis of the rural: his canvases of farm workers, such as Ploughing the field and The toilers (both AGSA), painted in 1920, have a similar quality of dignified absorption as his wife at her sewing. Despite Australia’s growing urban centres it was the notion of the rural as definitively Australian that resonated with the national psyche at this time, and Heysen was a master of its depiction.

Other paintings offering glimpses inside The Cedars include Nora’s Cedars interior (NHFC), painted in the 1930s, which depicts a still, luminous portion of a room showing a fireplace, a sofa and other items of furniture and, tellingly, her father’s Zinnias and autumn fruit 1923 (HHFC), which he would not relinquish to the visiting ballerina Anna Pavlova. It was not for sale, as Heysen had painted it for his wife.⁸ In Cedars interior, Nora has included her father’s painting coveted by Pavlova—and, incidentally, a framed high-quality reproduction ordered by her father from Europe of the famous Vermeer canvas Girl with a pearl earring 1665. These elements are central to the domestic space of The Cedars. Both the artists in the family held the Old Masters such as Rembrandt, Velazquez, Titian, Bruegel, van Eyck, and Vermeer in the highest esteem, with Hans Heysen writing: ‘It is their understanding of light, life, dignity and character which impresses one’.⁹ Heysen held that balance and composition were central to the success of a work and believed in continually honing the skills required of a sound draughtsman:

… the art of recording fast what the eye sees. Training the eyes and the hands to do this is one of the most important needs of the artist … To train the hand to record not only what the eye sees but what the mind behind the eyes sees, is the important thing.¹⁰

Nora recorded some of her early memories of living surrounded by art in her home and the influence it had on her:

I was immersed in art as a child. From a very early age I had an intense passion for art—surrounded by paintings and books of my parents. I determined that I wanted to paint masterpieces! [I had] an early visual appreciation of fine quality reproductions in my father’s studio and in the house—particularly Vermeer, Girl with a Pearl Earring, a very early impression. Both my father and I were great admirers of the early Italian Renaissance school, the masterpiece being Piero della Francesa’s Nativity … and Velazquez’s portrait of the Spanish Infanta … Two large Van Gogh landscapes always hung prominently as did The Gleaners by Millet—this piece in particular perhaps influenced my desire to portray the people on the land.¹¹

Art and family objects are on a common footing. The Heysens appear absorbed in their art in their quotidian spaces. Nora’s and her father’s flower studies and still-life works reinforce this impression.

As the Heysen family grew, the home was busy with eight children. Josephine, the eldest, was an outstanding horsewoman, her brothers and sisters were active athletes, and outdoor life at The Cedars fostered robust development and an understanding of the natural world. All of them—Jo, Freya, Lilian, Nora, David, Deirdre, Michael and Stefan—had tasks around the property. They were required to help keep the enterprise of The Cedars running smoothly: milking cows, collecting eggs and firewood, working in the garden, and preparing the tennis court for social occasions. Formal education was not a feature for the first five children though there was a series of tutors. Nora recalls:

We were a wild lot, I fancy. We had a life of our own amongst ourselves and were proper little bush urchins hauled in to say hullo to important persons … We were brought in to be shown off you know, and hated it, and went back bush—building bush houses and whatnot …¹²

From 1915 four tutors were employed to educate and restore some order in the children’s world. The first was a British governess who was too iron-fisted for Hans and Sallie. Later tutors fell away. Hans and Sallie agreed it was time for a formal school life and the children were enrolled at the Convent of Mercy day school, St Scholastica’s, at Mount Barker.¹³ One tutor did prove to have some positive influence for Nora in particular. Art historian and curator Jane Hylton notes that Mary Overbury (1860–1932), the ‘well respected South Australian artist’, conducted Nora’s first serious art training.¹⁴

2. Nora, standing, in the lower paddock below the studio at The Cedars with David (left) and Taffy the dog, Freya, Josephine holding baby Deirdre, and Lilian. Papers of Nora Heysen, National Library of Australia.

Social events were frequent at the Heysen home. Visitors, including many socially illustrious folk, were welcomed to an open house on Sundays involving a plentiful supply of homemade German brown cakes and coffee. Hans Heysen’s profile and popularity as a collectable Australian landscape painter meant that guests came from a broad spectrum of the international and Australian community. Sunday afternoons at the Heysens’ were quite the event. Visitors usually travelled on to destinations in Melbourne and Sydney where their Heysen visits were often discussed. Thiele writes:

Marie Tempest in the drama, Edward Goll in music, Pavlova in the ballet, Melba or the Italians in opera … It was a ceaselessly recurring pattern of visits filled out by innumerable calls between: Jim McGregor or Howard Hinton, Ifould or McMichael, Moore or Brewster-Jones.¹⁵

Other notables to call on Hans Heysen and his family were actors Laurence Olivier and Vivien Leigh, the American author and lecturer Helen Keller, and Robert Menzies. A visit from the British actress Sybil Thorndike and her company saw close to forty people arrive on a Tuesday morning, twenty more than they had expected, but according to Hans: ‘Still everything moved easily and the inundation was quite successful. The girls managed everything splendidly …’ ¹⁶ The issue of the domestic contribution of ‘the girls’ is worth considering. For Nora, the tension between her art and the expectation to be on hand in the kitchen whenever required was never addressed. The home offered a view of the vaguely idyllic, rarefied yet familial, atmosphere surrounding the great artist. In his biographical documentary film about Nora, Eugene Schlusser deemed these visits and events ‘theatre’. As much genuine hospitality as a commercial strategy, this ‘performance’ brought in money through commissions and sales.¹⁷ Nora revealed the reality to McKillup:

Nora described her mother as a ‘skilled and professional hostess, and the entertainment of the guests was left entirely to her … this sells pictures, money for living, with eight children money was involved and very necessary. Mother knew the right people’. When guests arrived the children were all expected to appear to talk a little … then they knew they must disappear and not interrupt or distract the adults again.

Nora also recounted how later in their childhood after they were paraded before visitors they were required to play their roles as support hosts.¹⁸

But Nora learned far more than the value of hospitality from life at The Cedars. The subtle studious art of observation and the importance of composition were the priority lessons from her father, either in his studio or when she accompanied him on his outdoor painting excursions. These trips were formative for her later work of portraits set in landscape. The young daughter would experience frustration as her father swiftly set about his work at pencil studies then watercolour paintings.¹⁹ Nora recalls in conversation with Klepac that:

I used to have my little bicycle with my satchel on my back, and trundle along afterwards for about four or five miles, and I was exhausted by the time I got there … even at that age I wasn’t content to paint with watercolours, I wanted to do oils because I found that more sympathetic to what I wanted to do, and by the time I’d got all my oil paints out and my palette fixed up, there was father with a finished picture … I was generally left sitting when father was on another subject, being a very fast worker.²⁰

Hans produced remarkable studies of trees, animals and children, drawing on his immediate surrounds. He painted large floral arrangements that were central to the domestic decoration at The Cedars. While flower painting is important in his oeuvre, it would become much more important in his daughter’s work. The flowers came from the garden beds that her sister Josephine tended and her floral displays filled the house. In Josephine’s regular correspondence to her friend Jacqueline Whyte she refers to her pleasurable outdoor toil:

Here the weather has been lovely, glorious mornings with heavy dews and mists warm to delightful days with soft breezes and still cool nights. The garden is a riot of colour, the dahlias the best they have ever been. I do wish you could see them massed in every colour, huge flowers too, many eleven inches across. I am kept busy keeping them watered and picked and the dead flowers off.²¹

In a series of hugely financially successful shows in the mid 1920s, Hans realised enormous sums for his work. His popularity was